Proximity

Disclaimer: I've decided I'm going to use all my creative "genius" for this story instead of the disclaimer. So, no, I don't own anything from Supernatural.

Summary: Tag for The Benders. Dean and Sam get deeper into the woods, and not by choice. Dean thought Sam was safe with him, but it was more of a hope than a fact.

Warnings: Rated for language. No slash, just brotherly love with a twist of angst…okay, more than a twist, maybe…

Author's Note: So, this idea literally hit me, physically attacked my brain…and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I loved "The Benders" episode, and this is my take on what happened on the walk, and although you'll swear I'm lying…I promise I love these two guys and would never purposefully do anything to hurt either of them…with that said, I'm a partial liar. I love them…as much as I love to hurt them. I don't think anyone will expect the ending…Intrigued yet? Reviews- constructive and otherwise, are definitely appreciated.

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"Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight, after all, boys. And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop,"

"Okay, wait, wait, wait—look, nobody's coming for me, all right? It's just us,"

"You don't choose, I will…"

Sam watched nervously, quietly, as his brother gripped his left shoulder again. They'd been walking for twenty minutes now, the damp cold settling in around them, the previous terror taking its toll on their tired, aching bodies. And it wasn't anything they weren't used to, especially after the hand-to-hand combat. The pain, they could deal with. Watching their brother obviously struggling with the pain…that was a different story.

"Man, are you sure you're okay? You seem distracted by that arm of yours,"

"I'm fine," Dean sighed, trying not to hiss from the ceaseless burning sensation in his upper shoulder.

"Want me to take a look at it?" Sam asserted, extending his hand towards his brother. Dean was quick to avert from the sudden hold.

"No," he spat, forcing himself to let go of his arm and avoid further suspicion. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to see how hurt he was.

The truth was, he wished Sam could see, could understand the hurt he was feeling…and that it wasn't so much the scorching burn on his shoulder that was causing him pain, but the agony of knowing he almost sentenced his brother to immediate death.

"Oh! Oh, you son of a bitch!"

"Next time, I'll take an eye…"

Then he was forced to stare into the flaming hot poker, its treacherous orange glow sparking a memory of another time fire's heat was at his neck, chasing him…but he remembered another thing from that night…he saved his brother, saved Sam…he did it then, he'd do it again. And if he had to choose so he could buy some time, then he would choose to have faith in his brother…

"All right, the guy, the guy! Take the guy!"

"Dean!"

Dean was snapped away from his silent torture, his thoughts unable to escape the unimaginable fear he was faced with less than an hour ago.

"What?"

"That's like…the fourth time you've spaced off. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," Just guilt for almost getting you killed…

"Liar,"

"Bitch,"

"Come on, I tell you when something's bothering me, don't I?" Sam questioned with pitiful authority in his voice that almost made his brother laugh.

"Yeah, after I force it out of you," Dean answered, unconsciously holding his left arm again.

"Okay, so I need to force this out of you?"

"What are you gonna do, Sammy? Tickle me until I talk?"

Sam withheld the urge to smack his brother, or punch, or shove…only because Dean was hurting more than he let on, and Sam needed to feign composure if he ever suspected to get an honest answer from his brother. And Sam was determined to get Dean to open up to him.

"Ya know, I wonder if you even missed me at all," Sam said, purposefully keeping any emotion out of the words. This caught Dean's attention.

"Are you freaking serious, dude?"

"You tell me,"

"Oh, don't you even…Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work," Dean did his best to share a dirty look with his brother, pretty much failing when he saw the widened, glistening puppy-dog eyes staring him down and the sight cut right into his chest. Dean physically cringed. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"You never said you missed me,"

"Well, I'm telling you now!" Dean spoke melodramatically, keeping his mouth slightly agape with surprise that Sam had the audacity to incite such a conversation.

"Telling me what, exactly?" Sam knew he was pushing his brother to the edge.

"I missed you, okay? I missed you!" Dean said, sounding angry but not really showing it. "What more do you want from me, piss ant?"

"I want you to tell me what's going on, what's bugging you?"

"You are,"

"Dean," Sam stopped, causing Dean to instinctively do the same. "Quit being a two year old. What did they do to you?"

Sam asked the question Dean feared the most. It wasn't anything they did to him, but what they talked about doing to Sam…and how could Dean explain that to him without sounding so vulnerable? After all Sam had been through, Dean knew that he needed to be strong, unaffected…like always, so he could make Sam feel safe. The hurt couldn't show, and so he couldn't answer…

"Let it go, Sam," Dean said dryly, taking a step forward and anticipating Sam to follow. When Sam stood in his place without so much as a glance upward, Dean knew he wasn't getting out of this situation so easily.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"What?"

"For you not to tell me what happened before I rescued you,"—

"Hey," Dean scoffed, "You didn't rescue me. I was handling the situation and you just happened to walk in at the same time,"

"And I repeat: before I rescued you, they did something to you…something bad. It was so bad, that now you won't tell me…" Sam finished his statement while staring at his brother, willing him to talk. Dean clenched his fists. He'd let Sam win at games when they were younger, because that's what cool big brothers do…but they were older now, and Dean was as determined not to let Sam win as Sam was determined not to lose.

"You want a cookie or something? So big deal, something bad happened," Dean widened his eyes and put his hands up in mock surrender, immediately wishing he hadn't when the pain shot down his left side. "Leave it to the All-Knowing Wonder to figure that out,"

"Tell me, please?"

And there it was…that word, that one word Sam could say that broke all barriers. It wasn't the word itself, just the way Sam said it…and Dean was helpless, but still not going down without a fight.

"Uh, 'please'? Quit being a two year old,"

"Fine, you win," Sam threw his hands up in the air in defeat. He then walked forward, passing Dean, and kept going. It was Dean's turn to stand still, feeling guilty, like an ass, and completely unforgivable at this point.

"Sam," Dean said, but Sam didn't turn around. To see his brother walking away from him, not turning around to answer his call had Dean feeling a sadness he'd never get accustomed to. He hated when Sam walked away; absolutely hated it. "Sam!" He said louder, more firmly.

And Sam continued to walk. For whatever reason, Dean couldn't put one foot in front of the other, couldn't catch up with Sam now no matter how hard he tried…the worst part was knowing he pushed Sam that far away, kept Sam that far away...

"All right, the guy, the guy! Take the guy!"

Dean's heart was racing.

"Lee, go do it. Don't let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage,"

Dean's heart stopped.

"What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt him, you were gonna give him a chance?"

And Dean heard the family talking, and he believed once or twice he spoke up in rage, threatened them violently, but none of it really mattered. Words meant nothing, vengeance meant nothing, and time wound so tightly around him that it snapped and began to unravel like a hurricane of razor blades. A single thought barred him in a prison of his worst fear as he heard the first gunshot ring out in the suffocating silence…

He murdered his brother—killed Sam…

Like a fire blazing in his shoulder, Dean felt the burn again, ripping through him. He clutched his arm and fell to his knees in the muddy earth below, grappling against the pain to stay awake. He gritted his teeth and growled in agony. Before he could blink, Sam had rushed to his side.

Sam took the moment of his brother's brief downfall and used it to his advantage. He carefully peeled back the layer of Dean's jacket, gently pulled down the shirt and saw the excruciating sight of the reddened mark silently attacking his brother. Dean didn't fight against Sam, mostly because he couldn't-for the pain was overtaking him, but also because he didn't want to hide it anymore.

"Christ," Sam whispered; his voice lost somewhere dark, imagining what his brother might be going through.

Once Dean saw the horrid awareness of pain in Sam's eyes, he pulled away from his brother's inspection. He let go of his shoulder a moment to push Sam back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam demanded, glaring sympathetically at Dean, who rolled his eyes.

"Don't be mad, Sammy. All the cool kids were doing it, and I just wanted to fit in," Dean pouted mockingly, and then a new spring of pain bounced all the way to his head. For a second, Sam didn't feel sorry for him—just a second.

"No one finds you amusing, Dean,"

"Aw, you do, don't you?"

"Do I look amused?" Sam narrowed his eyes as Dean studied him. He seemed to take a moment to consider his answer.

"Well, you are kind of funny lookin', but I was gonna say anything,"

Sam made a motion towards Dean as if he would have hit him, but pulled himself away and stood up, pacing in front of Dean who was still on his knees. Dean thought he heard Sam mutter something about 'being adopted' but he brushed it off.

"I hope it hurts, I really hope it hurts…" Sam lied, the whole mean vibe not very effective for him, especially when it came to his brother, particularly his brother when he was in pain. "I hope it hurts as much as you—the pain in my ass—hurts,"

Dean let out a sigh he'd been holding in and looked up at his anxious brother.

"This is why I didn't want you to know. I knew you'd freak out,"

"No, you didn't want to tell me because you're an idiot who thinks he's indestructible!"

You once thought that way, Sammy…

"Whatever. Now you know," Dean was forcing his voice to stay level, to keep calm and not verbally attack his brother like he felt inclined to do…with all the best intention, of course.

"So this isn't serious to you? This is some kind of a joke, a chance for you to show of your 'amazing' comic relief skills?"

Dean pursed his lips together while in thought and then nodded casually.

"Yeah, pretty much,"

Sam didn't respond right away. Instead, he stopped pacing, looked directly into Dean's eyes and a notion struck him finally.

"Oh," Sam gave a small laugh and tilted his head slightly. "You know what I think? I think that the more of a jerk you are, the more pain you're in. I think the more you try and force a cheap laugh out of this situation is the more you hurt,"

"And I think that's bull,"

"Yeah, you would…because it's true,"

Dean shook his head and did his best to stand up on his own. Even though they were in the midst of an argument, Dean still noticed Sam move in to a closer distance, should Dean lose balance again. Neither of them said a word of the action, just understood it.

"Fine. It hurts, it really hurts…more than you know," Dean said earnestly, not really thinking about his shoulder…just his guilt. Sam's expression softened and he sighed with sad victory.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you've recently developed the power to turn back time,"

"All right, well I can go flag down a car,"—

"No," Dean huffed defiantly. "No need, we'll just keep walking till we get back to the station, I'll be fine. Then we'll just clean and bandage it up when we get to the motel,"

"Are you sure?"

"Sam,"

"What?"

"Don't ask me if I'm sure. Ever. Again."

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For the next few minutes, they continued to walk, fighting against the chill of the wind. Sam did his best not to hover over his brother, just taking quick glances to make sure he was still okay, and Dean allowed him without barking at him to stop simply because he didn't want to argue anymore.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I, um…back when I…"

"Spit it out before I kick it out,"

"Well, I know that…we don't really…all the time…"

Dean looked over to his brother, falling over his words, and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't even go to college and I know that wasn't a complete thought,"

"This isn't easy for me…and you're making it more difficult," Sam was visibly distraught, though Dean couldn't grasp why. After taking a few seconds to mull over his thoughts, Sam finally gave up. "Ugh, never mind,"

"No, come on, tell me," Dean was highly interested now, and utterly baffled. "It's not everyday you're at a loss for words," Dean grinned and nudged Sam with his good arm. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I just wanted to say that—"

Before Sam finished, he suddenly felt the ground rise up behind him and pull him down. He landed hard on his back and he looked up dizzily into Dean's worried eyes.

"Sam?" Dean said, caught just as off guard from Sam's sudden trip as Sam was. He reached down an open hand to his brother, who took a moment to blink his eyes into focus before accepting the help. Their hands only barely touched before Dean felt Sam slip away—as Sam was pulled away.

And the burning in his shoulder stopped, and the frigid wind biting at him stopped, and he was no longer cold, but numb. He stood immobilized, watching as something dark was dragging Sam away from him, deeper into the woods…

He stood, wondering why the sounds of his brother yelling were getting louder in his head as Sam was taken farther away.

He stood, wondering what the hell was happening, what kind of freakish nightmare this was that he just couldn't awake from…but then, he realized…

"Maybe this isn't our kind of gig,"

"Yeah, maybe not, except for this. Dad marked the area, Dean. Possible hunting grounds for a Phantom Attacker,"

"Why would he even do that?"

"Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night, grabs people, then vanishes..."

Dean's eyes lit with fury and desperation, his breath hitched in his throat and his heart was caught in a throbbing purgatory.

And Dean ran.

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To be Continued…

Unless I'm the only one who wants to know what happens next, lol…

Thanks very much for reading. A review letting me know what you thought of this would be nice. And no, I didn't expect to write this kind of tag scene…but so far I'm having a twisted kind of fun with it…please don't hate me for it, lol. Thanks again,

Silver Kitten